Dealmaker
by Mindy35
Summary: Jack/Liz. Jack wants to hold Liz's hand.


Title: Dealmaker

Author: Mindy

Rating: K

Disclaimer: Not mine. No money. I swear.

For: hamnapkin

Prompt: dealbreaker

Pairing: Jack/Liz

Spoilers: "Kidney Now."

Summary: Jack wants to hold Liz's hand.

-x-x-x-

She's singing _'Annie'_ again. He can hear her from way down the hall. With no one around to hear her -- she thinks -- Lemon belts out _'Easy Street'_ with gusto that Jack used to find baffling. And slightly worrying. Now…not so much. Now, he just finds it endearing. Now, his footsteps slow and he smiles to himself, lingering in the deserted writer's room. He waits for her to complete her off-key rendition before he makes himself seen in her doorway, dressed in his tux, hands in pockets and smile still curving his lips.

Liz barely even looks sheepish when she smiles loopily back, barely realizing the joke is on her. Her hair is piled up into a bird's-nest-type-do and she's draped in Slanket as she flicks the earplugs out of her ears.

"Hey, Jack, what're you doin' here?"

"I work here," he replies dumbly.

She waves a pretzel at his tux before sticking it in her mouth: "I thought you had that dorky fundraiser to go to."

"I did." He sighs as he enters, pacing slowly across her darkened office. "You should've been there, Lemon."

She tracks him with her eyes. "That good, huh?"

"No," he muses: "that bad. I was right, it was an unmitigated nightmare." He turns to face her: "I would've enjoyed it much more if you'd come."

"Well, I'm sorry," she smirks, leaning back in her chair: "but I had work to do."

His eyes narrow. "You don't look sorry at all."

"You're right. I'm not," she says: "I much prefer my Slanket to a fancy gown and high heels, and tonight is the only night around here that I get to eat my turkey sub in peace."

"They had lobster tails," he offers mercilessly: "And an open bar."

Liz shrugs, impenetrably cheerful for some reason. "Even so."

He walks behind her desk, the silence of the empty offices deafening in comparison to their usual hubbub. He can hear his own footfalls, hear Lemon's clothes shift with her body as she knits her fingers together and stretches them above her head.

"What's this…?" he asks, squinting at the screen of her computer: "Your book?"

"My book," she nods, slumping back down: "I just completed a whole chapter on how to spot if your boyfriend is gay…Actually, I could probably write a whole book on that subject."

"I don't doubt."

"Thanks."

Jack places one hand on the back of her chair. "And how many chapters does that make?"

"Two." She shrugs, eats another pretzel: "You know…including the prologue."

"Hm." He smiles down at her a moment before asking: "So what else are you going to write about?"

"I really don't know," she mutters, casting a look up at him: "Like you said, my experience in this field is…pretty limited."

"Then, Lemon, I suggest you do what most authors do."

"Which is?"

He waves a generalising hand. "Make it up."

"Right." She dips her head decisively. "Of course. I'm a creative-type. I can do that." She pauses momentarily: "Any suggestions on where I should begin my distinguished career in fabrication?"

He smiles as he starts to move back round her desk. "Well, let's see. Opposites Attract is always a safe bet. Offices Romances is a common theme for such books. And you do have a little experience with May/December relationships that should be put to some use."

"Those are all…" Liz nods as she scrawls his ideas onto a notepad: "…really good ideas, thanks, Jack."

"Actually, Lemon," h murmurs, easing himself into one of her chairs: "The reason I came by tonight was for some advice from the Dealbreaker Lady."

"Oh, really?" She looks up, drops her pen: "You got lady troubles, buddy? Again? I mean…already? I mean--"

"No," Jack cuts her off: "I wouldn't exactly say that. It's more of a…hypothetical situation."

She frowns at him. "So…you left in the middle of a big party where there was fancy food and hot women to come ask me some random question about some thing that's not even real?"

Jack nods. "Yes."

She shrugs. "Okay." She sits back in her chair, folds her arms: "Shoot."

"Alright…" Jack shifts in his own chair, clearing his throat a few times. "What would you say then, to a man who…thinks he might have developed…certain feelings."

"Uh huh?"

"For a friend." He shifts again, clears his throat one last time: "His best friend, to be specific."

Liz pauses, cuts her eyes to one side. "Is his best friend gay?"

He shakes his head. "No, his best friend is a woman."

"Oh!" she nods and smiles: "I gotcha."

In the absence of her saying anything more, he expands haltingly: "He's known this woman awhile. Grown to trust her, rely on her. He enjoys her company, her special slant on the world. And has started to wonder whether…there could be…"

"Could be…?"

"More to it," he finishes. "More to them."

Liz bobs her head, lips rolled inwards. "Mm hm."

"He's always found her rather--" Jack pauses, cocks his head, then continues: "tempting. But as of recently, the…attraction has…increased somewhat. Or…alot."

Liz nods some more. "Mm hm..."

"So." He straightens in his chair, tilts up his chin. "What's your advice?" He waves a hand, adding: "For this hypothetical man?"

Liz steeples her fingers together, beginning thoughtfully: "You say this hypothetical man has known this hypothetical woman for quite some time already?"

"Correct."

"You say he relies on her, confides in her, yes?"

"Yes."

"And you say he has always found her attractive in some way?"

"Right."

"So." She narrows her eyes, leaning forward in her chair: "Is there any reason he hasn't made a move before?"

"Many reasons," Jack replies with a shrug. "I mean…I would assume…there are reasons. Perhaps, he, or she, wasn't always available."

Liz points a finger. "Exactly."

"Exactly, what?"

"Okay, lemme ask you this, Jack," she goes on, eager to prove her point: "Has this made-up dude just come out of a relationship?"

He furrows his brow at her. "Is that relevant?"

"Has he?"

"Perhaps…"

"A serious one?"

"Hard to say…"

"Because to me, Jack--" she picks up a pretzel from the packet on her desk and throws it in her mouth: "it sounds like a pretty clear case of rebound."

"Rebound?" he repeats, taken aback. "Really?"

"Yup." She waves her hands as she elaborates: "This dude, whoever he is, ends it with some lady, right? Finds himself alone, maybe a little heartbroken. He looks round for someone he's comfortable with, who's always there for him, who _hasn't_ broken his heart. He sees this friend – and BAM! He thinks he's in love." She looks at him from the corners of her eyes, wagging a disapproving finger: "But it's not love, Jack, it's rebound. And you know what that is?"

"A dealbreaker?" he guesses.

She grins. "You know it."

"I must admit," he muses: "I hadn't thought of it quite that way."

Liz holds her hands up at her sides. "This is why they pay me the big bucks…Well, they don't. But they will." She gives a shrug: "Ah, well, they might."

Jack can't help eyeing her furtively. "I must say, you certainly seem to know what you're talking about."

Liz continues munching on her pretzels. "Hey, you don't have as many failed relationships or false starts or bad dates as I have had and not pick up a few things along the way."

"I see that," he murmurs, the heavy silence filling out his sentences. He watches his friend munch obliviously away for another moment before asking: "And you're completely certain then, that that's the advice you would give this man? Hypothetically?"

She makes a sweeping hand gesture: "Absolutely. No question." Then offers him the half-empty packet: "Pretzel?"

"Ah, no," he says and rises from his chair. "I…think I will let you get back to it." He walks to the door, footsteps slow and mind turning over, just as slowly. "Well, thankyou for your help," he says, turning at the door.

"S'what friends are for," Liz answers cheerily: "right?"

"Yes. Well…" He examines her a moment, cloaked in Slanket, face washed with yellow lamplight and a tiny sliver of lettuce in her hair. "Goodnight then, Lemon."

"Night," she replies, turning back to her work.

Jack doesn't move. He seems unable to. "Ah…Lemon?"

She looks up again. "Yeah?"

He wavers on the threshold, one foot inside her office and one planted outside it's boundary. "I'm curious about something," he says eventually.

"What?"

He tries to keep his voice level, casual even, when he asks her: "If this hypothetical man with these hypothetical feelings were _your_ best friend…would your advice remain the same?"

She is silent a moment, mind backtracking, he assumes. Then, warily: "You're not talking about Jenna."

"Jenna is not a man," he points out, then turns to face her fully: "As far as I'm aware."

"Right, no. True--" she says, then tips her head to the side: "Though there have been rumours."

"Not the point, Liz."

"Sure, of course," she nods, dropping her gaze to her desk: "And you don't mean Pete either. Right?"

"Pete is no longer your best friend," Jack murmurs and starts to move back towards her desk. "He is no longer the one you run to with every little problem, hasn't been in some time. He's no longer your rock, the one who's advice you follow and whose office you hide in." He comes to a stop by her desk, looking down at her intently. "…Is he?"

"Ah, no," she admits, not quite able to meet his gaze: "I guess not…"

He reaches out to un-garnish her hair, voice husky with both affection and anticipation when he asks: "Pete doesn't hold your hand on a daily basis, does he, Lemon?"

Her face twitches slightly. "Pete…never held my hand…"

"I meant in the metaphoric sense."

"I knew that."

"I hold your hand now," he murmurs: "Don't I, Lemon?"

"In the metaphoric sense?" she mumbles falteringly: "Yes, yes, you do."

"So," he asks, low and slow: "what would you say if I wanted to hold it in a non-metaphoric sense?"

"Is that…all you want to do?" she mutters before she can censor herself. Immediately after the words leave her mouth, her face screws up, she waves her hands in front of it, ducking her head: "No! Don't answer that -- and forget I asked it, okay?"

"It's not all I want to do, no," he answers, regardless. "What I want," he tells her, leaning down close, both palms planted on her desktop: "is to make you a deal."

Her hands revert to fists as she peers up at him in the dim light. "What kind of…deal?"

"A very simple one," Jack says, pausing to let his eyes rove over her familiar features. He takes in a breath. "We spend one night together, Lemon, one full, glorious night. Just you and me. And at the end of it, you get to tell me whether what I've got for you is rebound. Or," he pauses for effect, lowers his voice even further: "whether what's happening here might be…something more."

Her mouth falls open slightly, her brow wrinkled with confusion. "One night? What do you mean by…one night?"

"I mean, one date," he clarifies, undaunted by her hesitation: "I mean we go out, not as friends or co-workers, but as a man and a woman. I mean, I get to touch you, I get to look at you, I get to hold your hand and whisper things in your ear. I mean that I get my chance. To do everything I can to convince you that this is real. I get to do everything within my power to make you want me to stay the entire night with you. And maybe every night after that. I mean, that we try this on for size -- no expectations, no resistance, no pretence, no excuses."

She blinks up at him. "No joke?"

"I've never been more serious in my life." He straightens slowly, eyes fixed on hers. Then he puts out one hand: "So. Do we have a deal?"

She examines him for a long moment with her enigmatic eyes. Then slowly, uncertainly, Liz reaches a hand out also. Slides hers into his. Even she seems surprised when she answers quietly: "Deal."

His mouth curves upwards ever so slightly. He retains her hand as he re-utters a soft: "Goodnight."

"Goodnight…" she replies, looking dumbfounded.

Jack turns and walks to the door. He stops again on the threshold, turns back to say: "I'll call you."

"I'll…pick up," she nods.

Jack nods in return, smile still flirting with the edges of his lips. "Till then," he says before he turns and exits.

_END._


End file.
